


Despite the Abundance of It

by ghosttopiary



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: M/M, Porn with Feelings, Tenderness, immortal husbands on vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26071327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghosttopiary/pseuds/ghosttopiary
Summary: Due to a series of uncharacteristically fortunate events, Joe and Nicky find themselves with three weeks of vacation.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 11
Kudos: 171





	Despite the Abundance of It

**Author's Note:**

> i just think joe deserves to get lovingly railed !!!
> 
> As usual, thank you to Noah for being the best beta in the whole entire world<3 where would i be without you.

"We have not touched the stars,

nor are we forgiven, which brings us back

to the hero's shoulders and the gentleness that comes,

not from the absence of violence, but despite

the abundance of it."

Nicky waits for him under the shade of an olive tree.

The sun gazes upon them, casting the warm earth and the singing of cicadas under a golden light. Joe takes a moment to adore, watching his deft hands peel an orange with care. Follows his eyes as they sweep over the peaceful landscape, over the sharp edges of mountains and – when they connect with Joe’s own – fill with a gentleness that makes his heart thrill a double beat.

“How are you, my love?” he asks as Joe settles down beside him.

“Wonderful, now that I’m here with you,” he answers, taking Nicky’s hand to press light kisses over each of his knuckles.

Nicky smiles, turning his hand to cradle his cheek. “How was your swim?”

“It was nice. I bought a new sketchbook on the way back,” he gestures to it, laying beside him on the grass. “The woman at the store gave me some bread too.”

This makes Joe laugh, retreating his hand back to the fruit. He calls it the ‘Yusuf effect’, how people will give him gifts wherever they go. He doesn’t blame them, he says even as Joe insists they are simply being polite. He is radiant, and casts the people around him in the gentle sunlight of his kindness at all times. It is only natural.

“Well,” he hums, “if you are going to draw we wouldn’t want to soil your hands.” 

He pulls a piece of the fruit, and holds it against his lips. Joe smiles briefly, before opening his mouth and letting Nicky push the sweet flesh of it into his mouth. It is a good excuse, he says with the curve of his eyes as he gazes into Nicky’s, closing his lips around his fingers and licking the juice of it off of his skin. Believable, even.

They sit wordlessly as Joe sketches – landscape, hands, fruit, face – a collage of the moment. Sporadically Nicky will peel a piece of fruit and feed it to him. They bask in the moment, revel in it’s quiet contentment and each other’s company. Joe wishes briefly he had brought coloured pencils to capture the gold of sunshine, topaz of the sea. To contain it on the paper so that he can bring it with him whenever they have to go back to working, shoulder to shoulder with tragedy and loss and futility. 

Nicky seems to notice his hand stilling against the paper, looks up at him. “What’s the matter, _caro?”_

Joe shakes his head. “I’m just tired, _ya amar_. And glad to be here with you.”

It’s an approximation, a pale shadow of what he is feeling, but they haven’t needed more than that in a long time. Even as he likes to describe his love in words, pour his affections into prose there has been a shared language in their movements, their expressions and their silence for longer than lifetimes. He knows that Nicky understands as much from the knit of his eyebrows and the downturn of his lips as he does from the words they speak, and he doesn’t need to say any more for Nicky to gently pry the pencil out of his hands and press a kiss to the inside of his wrist.

Joe feels so much tenderness in his heart he fears it will overflow, affection overcoming him like a tidal wave. He doesn’t realize he is crying until Nicky puts his forehead against his, wiping them from his cheeks with a soft caress of his thumb. 

He says nothing. He doesn’t need to.

-

They spend their dinner at a local taverna, sharing a feast of bread and fava and horiatiki with kritama. It’s a nice respite from the rations they eat during missions, a way of celebrating humanity. A way for them to partake in the lives and stories shared every day in a way that might otherwise be out of reach for them. Joe gently teases him for his poor Greek, but keeps a hand on the inseam of his thigh as he pours him a sip of local wine. It’s _nice,_ the way things rarely are with their lifestyles being the way they are. 

As they rise from their table Joe holds his hand over the small of Nicky’s back and it makes him shiver. It’s an innocent gesture, but it has been far too long for heat not to flush under his skin. He feels it prickle at the back of his neck as he watches him pay, elegantly poised against the counter and conversing easily with the employees. Feels attraction like a force to rival gravity as he laughs, face open and genuine with warmth.

He is struck by awe, as he has been a million times before, at the fact that he has been blessed with such a love, from such a man. Joe turns and locks eyes with him, and Nicky feels weak in the knees from the force of it. 

-

They walk along the pebble-lined beach on their way back to the house. It is already dark but the heat of the day lingers in the air, and Nicky breathes along the sound of waves caressing the pebbles on the shore. 

"The cashier gave me some loukoumades to bring home," Joe says.

Nicky snorts. "Of course she did. The Yusuf effect has never failed you."

Joe chuckles, carrying the paper box at his side. "I'm sure she gifts plenty of passerby patrons. She was a lovely woman.”

Nicky pauses briefly to take in the sight of his husband, watching the stars over the inky ocean. The lights of them adorn his face, as though he is part of the sky himself. He is once again overcome with the same kind of longing, walks over and presses a loving kiss to his lips just because he can. 

When he pulls back the stars in his eyes are twofold, corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement and adoration. 

"What was that for?" he laughs.

"You look beautiful in the moonlight," he mumbles. Places one more kiss against his throat just to revel in the way his breath hitches, feels the same restless heat return in his gut. 

"After all these years I still cannot believe you are my husband," he whispers against his collarbone, because it is true. 

Joe cradles his face between his hands and gently brings him up to face him, star-eyes shining against him with a brilliance and intensity so bright it burns him to his core. Nicky feels as though all of the vast expanse of the sky is gazing at him, enveloping him in celestial light.

"My moon," he says. "My stars. You are a gift to me every day. You are everything that is good with the world. To be able to spend another hour with you I would die a thousand deaths."

Nicky laughs, a little wetly. "Vacation is making us both sappy old men."

Joe laughs, too. "I am always a sappy old man."

"And I love you all the more for it, eyouni."

Joe clasps his hand, and they keep on walking back.

"Tomorrow we should drive over to the next town. They have a museum over there that I would like to see," Joe says.

Nicky hums in relaxed agreement. "I would like to buy some books there as well. I cannot go around embarrassing my husband with my lackluster Greek.”

Joe laughs, bright and carefree. Vacation suits him, he thinks to himself. The easy slope of his shoulders and the way he is one breath away from laughter at all times. Well rested, radiant. His hand squeezes against Nicky's as he uses his other to point out lyra and scorpio on the illuminated night sky. 

Nicky feels as though the constellations could extend to his outstretched arms, making him a part of the vast and beautiful expanse. Sees the beauty of the world in the corner of his mouth, the weave of their clasped hands as profound in magnitude as a shift of tectonic plates. It all fits together– a cosmic puzzle. He thinks he could see the very fabric of reality reflected in Joe’s eyes if he looked hard enough. He squeezes his hand back.

\- 

When they return to their house, excitement and anticipation thrums in the air. 

As the door closes, Joe immediately crowds Nicky against it, kissing him fervently. He pushes back with equal intensity, every moment of want during the day culminating in the passion with which he presses himself flush against his sturdiness, the way his hands move over his upper body in impatient exploration.

He has to withdraw, panting as he reminds himself to savor, to enjoy each moment with patience.

“ _Câo,_ we should not waste the kind woman’s gift. There is no need for us to hurry.”

Joe makes a somewhat pained noise, burying his face in the crook of Nicky’s neck.

“Yeah well I _guess,”_ he answers, long-suffering.

Nicky smiles and presses a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Go set them on the table and I will make us some coffee.”

He hums to himself as he works over the kitchen counter, fragrance of the brew sweeping through the room, enveloping and comforting like a blanket. 

Some days, when they are caught up in the throes of lives turned deaths, they will make love hurriedly as though they can burn the promise of each other’s continued existence into their skin. It is at times like this that he likes to take his time, luxuriate in each moment. Decadent self-indulgence, that the years they have been granted make room for so much loving despite the cruel nature of the world. Many hundred years ago it would plague him with guilt; now it is a celebration – a triumph.

He returns to the living room to find his husband sat watching the ocean. He looks contemplative, white linen shirt fluttering slightly in the sea breeze through the open balcony window, and Nicky once again wishes he had the penchant for artistry that Joe has, so that he could capture the grace of him. He looks up as Nicky approaches, breaking his reverie. A pity if not for the way his eyes light up, the gentle affections that overcome him.

“Metrio?”

“Who do you take me for, my love?” Nicky grins as he sets them on the table

They eat and drink in relaxed silence, watching the sea. It is bitter and sweet and comforting on his tongue, taste of something entirely different still resting at the back of his throat. The thrill of expectation still runs up his spine, flashing hot beats whenever Joe puts a piece to his mouth, but it is nicely comforting in a way. Warmth settled deep in his gut, like the burn after a glass of wine but not overwhelming. He knows they have time, that they have the rare luxury of taking things slow and easy. 

Their legs are pressed together under the table, and Nicky takes a last sip of his coffee. When he looks back up at Joe he winks, gesture ridiculous and it makes Nicky roll his eyes fondly, not quite able to keep a smile off his face.

“You are ridiculous,” he says just for the sake of it, anyways.

“You love it,” Joe teases back.

“I do,” he answers, fond and genuine.

They look into each other’s eyes as the moment lingers for a beat, and something shifts in the air. 

Heat locking into place.

There is some honey left on Joe’s fingers, and really Nicky is only human. He grabs his wrist, bringing it to his mouth and licking the residue off. When he is done he looks up to see Joe regarding him, eyes dark as they are fixated on his mouth.

Nicky feels overheated, frozen in place by hypnotic desire. Feels like a man possessed as he guides his hand back to the plate, smearing more of it onto his knuckles before taking his hand fully into his mouth. He maintains eye contact as he licks them clean, lets the tips of his fingers hit the back of his throat as he sweeps his tongue over his knuckles to remind him of his capabilities.

Joe makes a sound at the back of his throat. His eyes are transfixed on him as though he could not look away if he tried, legs spreading subconsciously.

Nicky finishes with a pop. Lets his mouth fall open to lick a wide stripe along the bottom of his ring finger. As soon as he is done Joe surges forward, kissing him feverishly. He tastes of coffee and sweetness, and of everything Nicky calls home.

"God, you are truly maddening," he groans.

Nicky licks into his mouth, overcome with a sudden greed for more, to drag more sounds out of him. Wants to _explore,_ to find every twitch of desire and tremor of his voice. Even with 900 years of shared history, he wants _more,_ is curious _._

“Hold on,” he says, and stands up suddenly. 

“I swear to God, Niccolò if you leave me here I will make good use of my scimitar _right now.”_

Nicky smiles, delighted. “Patience, _tesoro.”_

He hears Joe’s frustrated groan behind him as he walks back into the kitchen, returning with a glass jar in his hand. Joe takes one look at it and huffs a breathless laugh, disbelieving.

“Vacation truly makes a beast of you, _qalbi,”_ he says, amused as he lets Nicky clamber into his lap, swiftly removing his shirt.

“I’m partaking in the delights this trip has to offer, is all,” he replies, moves with a sudden and singular determination. He screws open the jar, pouring some of the honey over his chest and gets to work.

He licks in increments, moving his mouth along the protrusion of his collarbone, the swell of his pectoral. Alternates the sweeps of his tongue with sucking marks into his skin just to draw out more noises.

“Niccolò,” comes a breathless sigh as he buries his fingers into Nicky’s hair. He hums softly into his stomach, delighting in the way his muscles contract under him.

He presses a soft kiss to the soft skin on his hip once he reaches the edge of his pants, earning him a twitch and a hitch of breath. He can hear the way Joe’s breaths have become quick, shallow. Excitement and tension mingling with the sound of cicadas and the swell of the ocean. Nicky maintains eye contact as he pulls them off, gaze electric. Revels in the way Joe’s eyes glaze over as he pushes his thighs apart, sucks a mark into the soft skin before pouring honey all over his lover’s cock. 

Joe murmurs something above him, curse or prayer he cannot tell. He takes it as a compliment anyways, as he licks a stripe from the base of his dick and his voice breaks off into a moan. 

He loves being like this, on his knees in front of him – body like prayer, confessing his love like it is something he was made for. 

“Niccolò _ah–, wait_ ,” he says. He slips his cock out of his mouth, rests it against his bottom lip as he looks up.

Joe cards his hand through Nicky’s hair, caresses his cheek softly. 

“You amaze me,” his voice is tender, full of wonder.

Nicky is overcome once again by adoration, wants to send praise to the heavens a thousand times for the blessing of being loved by such a man, so full of unabashed love. He presses his face into his thigh, feels consumed by the light of the sun in the touch of his lover. 

“ _Yusuf, Yusuf,”_ he whispers into his skin. “Please turn around for me love.”

Joe’s breath stutters as he realizes what it is he intends to do, recognition flashing across his face. He smiles, presses a wet kiss into his mouth before standing up obediently. 

Nicky runs his hand along the smooth expanse of his back, gently but firmly pushing him down until he is bent over the table, facing the sea below them. His mouth goes dry suddenly at the visual, and his stomach swoops so fast he has to drop back on his knees, kneading the backs of his thighs reverently. 

Joe whines as he spills some of the honey, sticky and golden over the swell of his ass. He parts his cheeks with hands on either side, pulls them apart and licks directly over his hole. Joe swallows a desperate sob and Nicky already knows he won’t last long. He never does when he eats him out like this. The lines of his back are already tense, his thighs already trembling when he pushes his tongue into him.

“Nicky, _shit– ah!”_

He fucks his tongue into his hole and sucks _._ Joe slams his fist on the table, uncontrollably arching into Nicky’s touch.

“I– ah _fuck_ ” 

Nicky loves to get him like this, unrestrained and gagging for it. His usually polite demeanor broken under the onslaught of pleasure. He hums against him, sending vibrations up his spine.

“Niccolò please, _please–”_ he babbles nonsensically, whining and begging above him as his hips start bucking, looking for release.

Nicky lets him writhe for only a second before he wraps his hand around his cock, too wound up to restrain himself any longer. He comes with a shout, arching his back as he spills into Nicky’s hand. He works him all the way through his release, only letting go when he starts shaking from oversensitivity. 

They stay like this for a moment, still save for the ocean breeze over their overheated skin. Joe’s chest is still heaving as he pulls Nicky up for a kiss, murmuring praise into his mouth as he jerks at his cock, quick and filthy. He comes in less than a minute, bucking into Joe’s hand and sinking into his embrace. 

It is a while before either of them moves. They are silent, breathing in the scent of each other’s skin. Joe only retracts when the come starts to dry on his skin, pulling a face. 

After a beat he slyly says, “Well that was… certainly, um. An experience I cannot say I’ve had before.”

He smiles. “What about that weekend in Amalfi 1873?”

“Being covered in limoncello is something else entirely,” he answers, faux-solemn.

Nicky snorts. “Well we do have three weeks. Enough to do in depth research about this.”

Joe wiggles his eyebrows, making Nicky laugh.

“Let’s go shower before we traumatize the entire Mani Peninsula, my love. I am very sticky.”

Nicky nods, weaving their hands together. Later, he will kiss the love of his life on his eyelids as he drifts off to sleep and thank the stars for the gifts he has been given. In the morning he will be woken and see the heavens in his eyes, feel the love of creation in the warmth of his touch and the tousle of his hair. For now he will simply bask in the glow of shared existence, think of saying _I Love You_ in every way he has yet to say it and then once more in every way he has.

**Author's Note:**

> Title and epigraph taken from [Crush](http://goodreads.com/quotes/370891-we-have-not-touched-the-stars-nor-are-we-forgiven) by Richard Siken. To me it encapsulates all that is good with these two :-)
> 
> come scream to me about undying love on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/frogenthusiastt)


End file.
